


Can't Help Falling In Love With You

by liionne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Falling In Love, Hit man AU, M/M, Rumlow is an asshole, as usual, bucky is a hitman, but no actual violence until the end, hired to kill steve, lots of talk of violence, natasha is a bamf, steve has very good friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: Steve stops talking, and Bucky realises that it's because he's staring. He clears his throat, looks down at his plate. What the fuck's wrong with him?He looks up again and hits Rogers with that 100-watt smile. "Well, I mean-- you're looking good, so."What the hell wasthat





	Can't Help Falling In Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw [this prompt from auideas](http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/90806745074/character-a-has-been-given-one-month-to-find-and) on tumblr and flipped it a little, and this was born! Apologies for spelling, grammar etc mistakes.

**31 days left**

"New day new target, Barnes, how you feeling?" Rumlow asks as Bucky slides into the seat on the opposite side of the desk. Five days of leave after his last mission and debrief had left him itchy to get back to work. He wants his new brief, and then he wants to get out into the field.

"Restless." He answers, honestly. He doesn't care about conversation or pleasantries. Rumlow doesn't either, usually, but he seems to be in a good mood today, because he laughs.

"Yeah, I reckon you will be. Five days with nothin' to do - you never thought of takin' a minute to relax?" Rumlow asks him, crossing his arms behind his head.

Bucky takes a measured breath. "New target?"

Rumlow regards him for a second, smile fading, and then he sits forward in his seat. He slides a folder towards Bucky, and when he speaks it's now with a little more gravity. "Listen, Barnes - this guy'll be your 30th hit in just over a year. He's gonna be a difficult one to catch, but if you do this... let's just say, a lotta doors are gonna be open to you."

Bucky takes the file and flicks through it. Agent Steve Rogers, former captain in the US army, one of SHIELD's up-and-coming. There are photos of him; he's tall, well built, sandy hair and bright blue eyes. He doesn't look like the type of man who could be an intelligence officer. Too big. Too memorable. But there he is, now with added target sign over his head. Bucky's had worse missions.

"31 days." Rumlow tells him. "A month."

"A month?" Bucky's face twists. "I'll have him dead by this afternoon."

Rumlow shakes his head. "No, it's not that simple, see. He's SHIELD. He's intel. He's gonna know how to take care of himself. And he's _important_. You gotta make it look like an accident. If the coroner decides that it's a hit job then you..." He drags his thumb across his neck, and Bucky grimaces.

"Find him. Take him out. 31 days." Rumlow says, with a finality that says that the meeting's over.

"What if I can't get him after 31 days?" Bucky asks.

Rumlow snorts. "Then you ain't worth my time. You better get going, Barnes, clock's ticking."

Bucky nods, tucks the file into the brief case he's carrying (which is empty save for a pistol and a plum, because sometimes even hitmen get hungry, thanks) and leaves. He has a mission, after all.

~*~

He spends the rest of the day at the local library researching Steve Rogers, and google turns out to be his very best friend. Captain Steven Grant Rogers, served 4 tours in the Middle East, was honourably discharged and received the Medal of Honour after his final tour, where he managed to lead a group of just 5 men (including himself) to rescue all of 72 of the men in his company from a rebel stronghold. There were pictures of him all over the internet, in his uniform shaking hands with the president, shirtless in the desert somewhere, as a lean-looking college student on the college football team. It makes absolutely no sense to Bucky as to why he became an intelligence agent, because he is, in a few different senses of the word, totally freaking famous. Bucky reads his file again. He's a high ranking agent at SHIELD. Probably more management than anything else then, Bucky thinks. Yeah. That makes sense.

He looks at the images of Captain Rogers for a moment longer - someone's edited them to lay them side by side, so he can view all three at once. The gawky teenager, the easy-going soldier, the hero.

Bucky closes the tab, deletes the history, and logs off the computer. He has Rogers' MO, his address. Everything he needs.

Now he just has to stake him out.

 

**30 days left**

  
It's fucking cold. Brooklyn is fucking cold and why does Rogers live in Brooklyn anyway? Admittedly, it's probably just as cold in Manhattan as it is in Brooklyn, but that's not the point. Bucky is lying on the rooftop of a neighbouring building, with a high-powered telescope and a bag of cheetos, and he's been there all day, thank you very much, so he's freezing.

Rogers' apartment doesn't seem like the apartment of a decorated war hero and SHIELD agent. It's in a nice building, granted, but it seems kind of... small. Doesn't look well decorated, either, but once it had gotten dark he'd drawn the curtains and that had been the end of Bucky wondering how he would make over Rogers' living room if he had the time.

He's spent the day watching for people coming in and out, observing Rogers' habits, and now he's determining the best way into the apartment to get a bug in there. A handful of bugs, in fact, because there's not one square inch of that place that he wants to leave uncovered. Window access, maybe. Rogers' apartment is on the top floor, which could mean a way in via the roof.

There was always the front door, of course - if he could find a way in he could easily get into Rogers' apartment, but it would be too easy to get caught, even for someone like him.

He watches the lights go out one by one in Roger's apartment, and then, after another hour in the freezing fucking cold, he makes his way down from the roof and across the street, avoiding the street lighting and moving as stealthily as he can. There's an alley down the opposite side, another potential route if he's desperate, maybe, but for now he keeps walking. Tomorrow he'll get the bugs up and running, and after that this whole thing should be plain sailing.

  
**29 days left**

  
He comes back the next day at dusk, having tailed Rogers to work and back again. Bucky kind of likes the spying thing - sure, killing people is where the money’s at, but espionage is fun, even if it's cold and wet and kind of miserable.

He's distinctly aware of the fact that he's being followed. Which, frankly, is hilarious, because he's been following Rogers (hopefully better than the guy who's been in his tail for the past five blocks because Jesus, he isn't subtle).

The footsteps behind him are getting a little faster, as if whoever it is wants to catch up to him. Bucky isn't worried - he knows 30 ways to kill a man and he could probably invent a few more if he really wanted to.

He's pulled into an alley by the collar of his coat, and pressed up against a wall. Something about his wallet, his watch - he isn't even listening. Like he said - he isn't worried. He's deliberating how long he should let the guy live when suddenly he just isn't there anymore, now down on the ground and spluttering.

And lo and behold, in the spot he had been in was Steve Rogers himself, looking all righteous and sort of angelic, when that gold-spun hair was backlit by the street lamp. He shakes out his fist, and Bucky realised he punched the guy. Huh.

“You better get outta here, cops are already on their way.” He spits, and Bucky doesn't know what he expected Steve to sound like, but it's exactly what he gets. Deep, kind of gravelly, but maybe that's just the adrenaline. Bucky raises his eyebrows as the guy runs off, sans Bucky's wallet or his watch.

Bucky recovers himself as quickly as he can, clearing his throat as he steps away from the wall. "You actually call the cops?" He rasps. He must have been grabbed harder than he thought.

"No." Rogers admits, lips twisting into a rueful smile. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Bucky nods. He takes a step and feels kind of - woozy. Shit. Did he hit his head?

"Hey, easy," Rogers says, reaching out with a hand on his arm to steady him.

How easy would it be? They were alone in an alleyway, in the dark. He could twist that arm back, headbutt him, and kill him before he even knew what was happening. There were a hundred different ways he could do it, and he knew it.

But Brock had said to make it look like an accident. It would look exactly like a killing, and a brutal one at that.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" Rogers asks. Bucky shakes his head, which makes the world spin a little bit more.

"Do you need to lie down?" Rogers asks, and something snaps Bucky's attention back. He has a feeling he knows where this is going, and it could be a good idea. "My apartment is only a few blocks away, I know it's not conventional, but if you wanted to just take a minute to recover--"

Bingo.

"That's a hell of a come on." Bucky chuckles weakly - playing it up, maybe, but that's the whole point. Make Rogers think that he's vulnerable. "But I mean - if it's not weird--"

And then he stumbles, and Rogers is holding him up, broad hands on Bucky's arms to keep him upright. "Not at all." Rogers assures him, beginning to lead him out of the alley and Bucky follows along placidly, stumbling every so often.

Bucky keeps his eyes down, but looks as much as he can. He memorises the number of steps into the building, into the elevator, out and along the hall and into apartment 405. Oh, this is just too easy.

"Here you go, easy now," Rogers says, his voice soft as he leads Bucky to the sofa pressed up against the wall. Bucky does his best to scan the room before closing his eyes and groaning under his breath; he feels fine, actually, the initial wooziness from before already dissipated, but he's not going to let Rogers know that. He hears clattering, cupboard doors opening and then closing again, and then footsteps, muted by the carpet.

"Aspirin and water for you. You sure you don't need to go to the hospital?" Rogers asks him, and Bucky would roll his eyes if he wasn't trying to win Rogers' trust right now.

"Honestly, I've had worse." He says, smiling weakly as he blinks his eyes open. "I just need the shock to wear off, y'know?"

"I know." Rogers murmurs, and smiles back at him gently. Bucky looks at him for a moment, too long, perhaps, and then he blinks, reaching for the aspirin.

"You got a name?" Bucky asks after a moment. Rogers looks surprised, and then he smiles again, that same, gentle smile.

"Steve." He answers. "You?"

"Bucky." He returns. Using his real name might be considered unwise by some, but Rogers is going to be dead in max 29 days, so what does it matter?

Steve is looking at him strange, and now Bucky _does_ roll his eyes. "It's a nickname." He explains. "Short for Buchanan."

"Your name's _Buchanan_?" Steve asks, even more incredulous than before. He looks like he wants to laugh, and it'd be cute, if he wasn't Bucky's next target and finding your target cute was a very dangerous move.

"No, my middle name." Bucky explains, and Steve gives a soft chuckle.

"Alright, well, _Bucky,_ " He says, taking a step back. "I won't hover, but - just give me a yell if you need anything, okay?"

"'s your house." Bucky says. "You can do whatever you were gonna do, y'know?"

Steve looks at him like he doesn't think that's a very good idea, but then huffs softly, and he nods. "Alright. I mean, all I was going to do was work and watch Project Runway, but--"

"Hey, go for it. No judging here." Bucky grins, but he lets his eyes flutter shut.

He doesn't fall asleep. He very definitely doesn't fall asleep. He keeps his eyes closed and he breathes slowly and evenly, but he doesn't fall asleep.

It's been three hours by the time he peels his eyes open, and looks at the arm chair where Steve had settled earlier; he's asleep, a book open on his chest but the television switched off. Steve's a soldier, and an agent; he doesn't drop his guard around just anyone, and yet he's chosen to fall asleep in front of Bucky.

So Bucky moves as stealthily as he can. He fits a microphone in the living room, the entryway, the kitchen, the bedroom, the office. He thinks he's hit every room when he hears Steve stir, and Bucky does his best to look sheepish as he returns to the living room.

"There a bathroom in this place?" He asks Steve, who looks at him for a long moment before he apparently remembers what had happened not long before.

"Yeah, uh--" His voice is even deeper now, thick with sleep, and Bucky is - he's not sure what he is. It grabs his attention, regardless. "Second door on the left, just down the hall."

Bucky nods, ducking into the bathroom. He does a quick survey of the contents of Steve's medicine cabinet, and then he potters around, coming back out and clearing his throat.

"I feel a lot better, so, y'know--"

"Yeah." Steve nods. "Yeah, sure. Want me to see you out?"

"Oh, no, I'll be fine. Thank you, Steve. Seriously." Bucky nods, slipping out of the front door and heading down the stairs.

So he managed to get a read on Rogers, and bug his entire apartment, all in the space of one night. God bless the poor sucker who tried to mug him - he did Bucky one hell of a favour.

  
**26 days left**

  
Bucky spends the following day listening to the microphones; they're mostly silent, even when Rogers is _in_  the apartment, but Bucky supposes it's only the first day.

On the second day he stands opposite SHIELD HQ, and waits for him to come out for lunch. He tails him to a coffee shop, and watches him duck inside. Bucky notes his order, notes how long he sits there, even notes how he tips the waitress, and then he watches Steve leave.

On the third day since bugging his apartment, Bucky ducks into the coffee shop and gets in line. He orders the exact same as Steve had yesterday, and then he waits.

He doesn't have to wait very long; he's timed it perfectly. Steve enters the coffee shop, bringing a cold draft in with him, and smiles at the barista as he orders "the usual".

Bucky pretends not to have seen him, sitting at a table in the same part of the cafe Steve had sat in the day before. The waitress brings over his coffee and his sandwich, and Bucky waits.

He waits because he knows Steve's type. He has a good feeling about him - well, about the fact that he'll come over, anyway, and it's about 30 seconds before his light is blocked out by the familiar silhouette of Captain Steve Rogers.

"Fancy seeing you here," He says, and Bucky turns on his 100-watt smile.

"Well if it isn't my hero." He returns, making Steve blush. Huh. Steve Rogers, blushing - who'd have thought? "You wanna sit?"

"You don't mind?" Steve asks. He reaches out for the chair as he asks but then he hesitates, and all Bucky can do is nod, taking a sip of his coffee.

Steve sits down opposite him, shrugging out of his coat. He's wearing proper business wear, suit and tie and everything, but he shrugs out of the jacket too and rolls up his sleeves, and Bucky, strangely, finds himself following the movement, tracking it with his eyes until he's distracted by the waitress.

"Hey--" Bucky says, gesturing to his own lunch. "Same order." He grins, like it wasn't totally planned.

Of course, to Steve, it wasn't. It was a total coincidence. So he laughs, and he raises his coffee cup in mock-cheers. "Great minds think alike." He chuckles.

"What're you doing all the way out in Manhattan?" Bucky asks, his tone conversational, but curious.

"Oh, I work out here. You know how it is." Steve shrugs. Bucky nods sagely. He does, indeed, know how it is. "What about you?"

"Same." He answers, and technically it's not untrue - his office really _is_  in Manhattan. He's rarely ever there, and his works takes him all over America, all over the _world_ , but his base of operations is Manhattan. So.

Steve gives a little nod, and sips at his coffee again. "You feeling better?" He asks.

Bucky nods enthusiastically - this version of himself is a lot more preppy, apparently. "Yeah. I was right as rain once I'd slept it off, honest." He says, and Steve gives a self-satisfied smile. "Bet that guy's not messed with anyone else after he ran into you." He chuckles, and there Steve goes, blushing again. "You always punch people in alleys?"

"Used to." Steve nods, and for a second, Bucky is actually, genuinely surprised. Steve seems so... straight-laced. The idea of him getting into back-alley brawls is laughable, despite his size and muscles and - well, everything else. "When I was 16 I was about 100 lbs and I had a bad habit of picking on people who were a lot bigger than me."

" _You_ were a 100lbs?" Bucky asks, and now he really _is_  surprised. No way - he's seen the photos. The college ones. He was lean, sure, but lean in the way that someone who's naturally muscled, but doesn't really work out is.

Steve's cheeks are bright red now, his blush spreading as far as his neck, and Bucky tracks it with his eyes, watching it disappear into the collar of his shirt. His adam's apple bobs as he laughs, and Bucky watches that too, gaze flicking up to his face only as he speaks. Momentary lapse in concentration, he tells himself.

"Yeah, I was a sickly kid. But when I hit 11th grade I got put on a new treatment plan and my lungs got a bit stronger, I guess. Once the asthma wasn't so bad I could exercise a lot more, and I had a growth spurt right before I went to college--"

Steve stops talking, and Bucky realises that it's because he's staring. He clears his throat, looks down at his plate. What the fuck's wrong with him?

He looks up again and hits Rogers with that 100-watt smile. "Well, I mean-- you're looking good, so."

What the hell was _that_?

"Thanks." Steve chuckles, but his blush gets worse, spreading right to the tips of his ears now. "I got lucky, I guess."

"Sure, sure," Bucky agrees, eyeing Steve for a moment longer before he sips his coffee.

They chat for a while about nothing in particular; Steve stays clear of topics such as work, and so Bucky does as well, because it would seem strange if he were to press. They talk about Brooklyn and how they both grew up there - "Small world!" - and about college, things that Bucky could have easily found out about Steve with a quick google. Things he _had_  found out about Steve with a quick google.

"Oh, shoot," Steve checks his watch, and wipes his hands on his napkin, rolling his sleeves back down. "Sorry, I'm going to be late if I don't head back." He's shrugging into his jacket and his coat when he suddenly stops. He pulls a pen out of his pocket, and scribbles down a number. Bucky knows it, because it's in his file - it's Steve's mobile number.

"If you ever, uh--" He blushes again, and Bucky smiles, perhaps a little  _too_ genuinely. "Want to have lunch again."

"We'll see." Bucky teases. Steve grins, a little bashful, looking at Bucky for a long moment before Bucky gestures for him to go. "Go on - don't be late."

"Right." Steve nods. "Right. I'll - I'll see you around." He says, and then he smiles, and Bucky can only smile back as he leaves.

~*~

An hour later, he texts Steve.

**_Get to work on time?_ **

And then:

**_This is Bucky btw._ **

And _then_ , for good measure:

**_:)_ **

There's silence for a little while, but Bucky doesn't care. He's googling Steve some more, going a little deeper to see if he can figure anything else out about him. He tells himself its for the mission, but when his phone buzzes he quickly abandons his search in favour of reading the message.

_**Just! Guess I got a little too caught up.** _

_**:)** _

Bucky smiles at that, and taps out his reply.

_**Well, next time we'll have to manage our time a bit better.** _

_**Next time?** _ Comes the reply, not a minute after Bucky's text has sent.

_**Monday, if you're free?** _ Two days. Bucky had played this game before, see. Two days was long enough to make you seem like you wanted to see them, but not like you were desperate. It wasn't his first time seducing someone.

Because that's what he was doing, wasn't it? That's why he was suggesting lunch and texting him smiley faces and flirting with him - to seduce him. To get close to him, as close as he could get. Yeah. Seemed about right.

_**As a bird.**_ Steve texts back. _**12.30?**_

_**It's a date.**_ Bucky responds, and then he goes back to his google search, looking for something new.

   
 **25 days left**

  
"You've had a week, Barnes. How's it going?"

"Alright, it's tougher than I thought it was gonna be." Bucky says. "You got me there."

Rumlow chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Figures. You making progress, though?"

"Got his entire apartment bugged, and his schedule down." Bucky nods. "I'll start working on a plan this week."

"Good." Brock nods. "The sooner the better. I'll see you in a week - or sooner." He grins, shark-like, and Bucky has to suppress the urge to punch him.

He goes to leave, but then he stops, turning on his heel. "Why's he got a hit on him?" He asks, and Rumlow looks at him, somewhat surprised, so Bucky continues, "You never told me."

"You don't usually ask." Rumlow points out, which - yeah. True. Bucky doesn't speak, so Rumlow clears his throat. "He's getting a little too close to uncovering Hydra for what it is. Y'know. The fact that we've been murdering high-ranking officials for years now. Shaping history. That sort of shit."

Bucky nods, staccato. "Right."

"Sooner the better, Barnes." Rumlow repeats. "Get out of here."

Bucky knows better than to hang around.

  
**19 days left**   
  


In the week following his meeting with Rumlow, Bucky meets Steve for lunch three days out of five, and texts him non-stop. They add each other on snapchat, they send each other pictures, they act as if they've been friends for years.

And Bucky sits up at night, thinking about the fact that he has to come up with a plan to _kill him_ , and so far he has... nothing.

Bucky's never been that bothered about killing people. Call him a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever, but he doesn't know the people he kills. He knows their location, and what they look like. He doesn't know their life. He doesn't know their story.

He doesn't know how they blush when they're being complimented, or how they duck their head after making a joke that they _know_ is terrible. He doesn't know how they order the same thing at the same cafe for lunch every day, and he doesn't know lonely they seem, sitting in their apartment night after night, reading or doing work until they fall asleep on the couch.

Which, honestly, is probably for the best.

Bucky is busy doodling on a scrap of paper which was _meant_ to contain his new and fancy plans for killing Steve Rogers and making it look like an accident when he gets a text, his phone scooting across the countertop as it vibrates. He already knows who its from - absolutely no one texts him on a normal day - and he smiles a little as he picks it up.

Then he reminds himself that that's bad, and he stops.

_**You busy tonight? Some friends have invited me out for a drink, figured you might want to come along?** _

He should say no. He isn't Steve Rogers friend. He isn't - he doesn't _like_ him, or whatever. Definitely doesn't like him in _that_  way, so--

He's already typed back _**Sure, but you're buying ;)**_ before he can even finish his list of reasons why he shouldn't go.

He doesn't know what to wear. Bucky doesn't go to bars for social gatherings, mostly because he doesn't have friends. He knows what to wear if he wants to seduce someone, kill them and then flee the scene, but...

He settles on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, at the risk of looking like bar staff, and because all of his clothes are black, apparently.

Steve says to meet him outside of the bar, and so he hangs around, scrolling on his phone and checking out the people around him. He knows how to tell if someone is armed or not, and he imagines that Steve does as well, so he doesn't have his pistol with him. Probably a good thing. Not a single person walking in or out seems to be carrying anything.

And anyway, Bucky still has his knife tucked into his boot. He's not _that_ stupid.

Looking for concealed weapons distracts him from Steve, who appears in front of him, grinning and red in the cheeks from the cold and looking generally (and genuinely) excited to see him. Bucky's stomach flip flops, and then he gives it a stern telling off, all the while smiling at Steve.

"Ready to go in?" Steve asks, and bucky nods. "Lead the way."

When Steve enters there's a slight cheer from a table at the back, various echoes of "Steve!" that make Bucky feel a little bit - jealous? Jealous and something else. Something--

Oh. Guilt.

"Hey, guys. This is Bucky-- Bucky this is Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda." He reels their names off, each one giving a little wave in turn. They all seem to be - giggling. Like school kids. Like... friends.

"So _you're_ Bucky." Scott says, eyebrows arching. "We were starting to think that you were imaginary."

"Steve does have a _very_ good imagination." Wanda nods.

Steve is blushing, and he seemingly kicks them both under the table, because they both yelp and then laugh some more. Sam is the one to hush them both; he must be den mother, Bucky thinks.

"Ignore the _children_ ," He says, nodding his head towards Wanda and Scott. "Steve's told us a lot about you."

"And yet he's told me absolutely _nothing_ about you." Bucky says accusingly, but he makes sure to smirk, so Steve knows he means nothing by it.

"Oh, he likes to pretend that we're not his friends." Clint teases. "Thinks he's above us, or something."

"I do _not_  think that." Steve counters, and even though there's a curve to his lips his voice has an edge to it, a very serious one.

Clint waves a hand at him, dismissive.

"Natasha not coming tonight?" Steve asks, and Clint shakes his head.

"Work thing." He shrugs.

"Natasha?" Bucky asks.

"She's the one who usually keeps them all in line." Steve explains, and he grins a little bit. "She's got a pretty stressful job, though. Beer?"

"Sure. Thanks." Bucky nods as Steve gets up, sliding out of the booth to buy them both a beer, and almost as soon as he's out of ear shot the entire table turn on him.

"Okay, here's the deal." It's Sam who says it, but the others are looking at him, very seriously. "Steve _never_  dates. I think I've known him to date, like - two people, in the entire five years that I've known him, and he didn't talk about any of them half as much as he talks about you."

His voice is hushed, words hurried. He doesn't want Steve to know about this, evidently.

Bucky resolves to tell him just as soon as they're alone.

"Which isn't to inflate your ego," Clint picks up. "It's to let you know that if you hurt him, we're going to hurt _you_."

"All of us." Wanda agrees.

"In ways you could never imagine." Scott adds.

Oh, I can imagine, Bucky thinks. He keeps quiet though.

"Natasha isn't here, but trust me, she's scarier than all of us put together and she _will_  murder you." Sam says. Did they rehearse this? "So for your sake - be good to him."

And then Steve comes back, and everyone is all smiles and laughter again, and Bucky feels kind of winded.

Everyone chats, but he just can't concentrate. Steve has friends. Steve has four people here, five if you count Natasha, which Bucky does because she's been mentioned like 85 times despite not being at the table, that care about him. They're worried about Bucky breaking his heart.

Christ.

"What is it that you do, Bucky?" Someone asks, and Bucky looks up. He can't be zoning out, he thinks. Even if he feels like he wants to vomit, he can't lose his grip. He needs to look like he's enjoying himself. Like he actually wants to be there.

"I work for a law firm." He answers, sitting up a little straighter in the booth. It's not too much of a lie. Hydra _is_  a law firm, technically. They do law-based stuff. He just doesn't have anything to do with it.

"Ah, a vulture." Wanda grins, and though Steve grimaces, it's Clint who interrupts.

"And here I seem to recall _someone_  crying when their application to law school was denied. I wonder who that could be..." He pretended to think, giving Wanda a pointed look that had them all laughing.

"Are you okay?" Steve whispers to Bucky, whilst Wanda talks about how rejection set her on the path to art, and look at her now, etc etc.

"Yeah." Bucky murmurs. "Sorry, I know I'm being a killjoy - tough day at work." He says.

"We can leave, if you want." Steve says, and Bucky is suddenly aware of Steve's hand on his thigh. His mouth feels kind of dry.

"No, no, I'm having a good time, I swear." Bucky promises, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, convincing enough that Steve goes back to laughing with his friends.

They stay for another few hours, eventually spilling out onto the street. Sam and Scott go one way, Clint and Wanda another, and he and Steve begin the walk back to the train station.

Bucky walks with his head down and his hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling like the worst human being in the entire world, and dammit he /knows why, he's just not admitting it to himself. Steve knocks their shoulders together, and smiles softly. "They liked you." He says.

"They did?" Bucky asks weakly. He hopes that excuse about being tired still stands.

"Uh huh." Steve smiles softly. "They haven't taken to people that quickly in the past."

"Well, you didn't see the 'hurt him and we'll kick your ass' conversation that I got." he jokes. Steve huffs, as if he's somewhere between laughing and exasperated.

"They've seen too many movies." Steve shakes his head. "They think anyone I date has to have the _talk_."

"So we're dating?" Bucky asks, and Steve comes to an abrupt halt. Bucky stops too after a couple of paces, turning to look at him.

"Is this fast?" Steve asks, and he looks like he's genuinely in pain. Bucky immediately feels bad, though it's not like he could feel any worse, at this point. "This is too fast. Jesus, I'm sorry, I - I don't do this often, so I'm not--"

"I don't think it's too fast." Bucky shakes his head, steps closer to Steve. He puts his hands on his waist, under Steve's coat, and takes a deep breath. "It's not too fast. It's fast, maybe, but not - I wouldn't wanna take it any slower."

Steve relaxes a little bit at that, but there's still so much tension in his shoulders. Bucky swallows thickly. This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea-- "If we're dating, does that mean I get to kiss you?"

"If you like." Steve says, like he's impartial to the entire thing, even though Bucky could feel the way his chest hitched, his breathing stuck for just a second.

Bucky doesn't reply. What's the point in being a smart ass, at this point? He pulls Steve closer and presses their lips together in a chaste kiss, soft and sweet. He can just about taste the beer on Steve's lips, and he knows he'd taste it better on his tongue, but he pulls away before he can think to get that far. He smiles at Steve, who smiles back, looking at Bucky dopily.

"We're gonna miss the train." He says.

Bucky shrugs. "They're every 9 minutes." He says. Steve grins. That's apparently all he needs to kiss Bucky again, pulling him closer by his lapels.

~*~

If Bucky was a normal guy, and Steve was a normal guy, he maybe would have liked to take it slower.

He would have courted Steve. Yeah, he knows how old fashioned that sounds, but god damn it, dating would _not_  do Steve Rogers justice. Dating is what teenagers do. Courting is when it means something. He would take him out for lunch and take him to the movies and go for walks and all the stereotypical romantic bullshit he knows people in love do.

But Bucky isn't a normal guy. To put it simply, he's a hitman. And Steve isn't a normal guy. He's Bucky's target. And Bucky has a grand total of 19 days to find a way of killing Steve whilst making it seem like something else.

He could have 19 years, he thinks, and he still wouldn't have a fucking clue.

~*~

He skips his meeting with Rumlow the next day, tells him he's working. He spends the day at the gym instead, trying, literally, to run away from his problems. He spends Sunday with Steve, watching movies and lounging on Steve's couch. He spends Sunday night hitting his head against the wall - figuratively, though he considers doing it for real - wondering what the hell he's going to do.

He eats lunch with Steve every day the next week. He just - he doesn't get sick of him. Five minutes in a room with Rumlow and he wants to punch his fucking head in, but Bucky meets Steve for lunch every day and never, ever gets tired of him. He never runs out of things to tell him. They have a wonderful time every time they meet up, and they text each other until they both pass out. It's the kind of a connection Bucky has never really had with a human being before.

Something has to give. Something needs to be done. Bucky just doesn't know what, not quite yet.

  
**10 days left**

  
It's dark, and the room smells of sex, and Bucky wishes he could feel happy. He wishes he could sleep, because he knows Steve isn't going to kick him out, and he knows that he's welcome, but he's restless. He feels sick, the same way he has for the past week or so, now. Longer maybe. Fucking Steve had helped a little, but only temporarily.

"I googled you." He admits, because it's safe to do so. It won't give him away. "You met the president." He says, and he grins.

Steve huffs, but he's smiling. They're each lying on their sides, facing each other. Bucky doesn't mind that the only thing he can see is Steve. He prefers it, actually.

"Yeah." Steve murmurs.

"You don't wanna talk about it?" Bucky asks, as gentle as he can manage, and this time he isn't playing. He isn't acting. He hasn't been for a long time, he thinks.

"'s not that." Steve murmurs. "It's just... difficult. That's all."

Bucky nods. He can't hope to understand, of course, but still. He reaches out to run his knuckles over Steve's cheek gently, earning a smile in response.

"I did something good, and I got rewarded for it." Steve murmurs. "But no one - no one ever thinks about how many people I had to kill, to save all those men. How many families must be grieving, even now, because of me."

Bucky's gut clenches painfully, but he leans across the space to kiss Steve softly, sweetly. "You did what you had to do. Doesn't make it right. Just is what it is."

Steve nods. He sighs softly, moves to push Bucky onto his back, so he can pillow his head on his chest. "I know that." He murmurs. "I know."

Bucky hopes he knows. He really does.

  
**3 days to go**

  
"I quit."

Rumlow nearly falls out of his chair.

" _What_?"

"I quit." Bucky shrugs.

He had formed the plan in the dead of night, watching Steve breathe deeply as he slept. He had ran his hand over Steve's chest, felt his heart beating, felt the rise and fall of his chest, and he had decided that he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. He _wouldn't_.

He wouldn't kill anyone ever again, so long as he lived.

"That isn't how this works, Barnes. You had a target - you took him out yet?"

"Nope." He makes sure to pop the 'p', and Rumlow glowers at him.

"So you just, what? Just fucking quit?" He asks. "What the fuck's that about? Finally grow a conscience?"

"Something like that." Bucky responds, and because he's an _idiot_ , he smiles.

"Oh." Rumlow says, leaning back in his seat. " _Oh_. You like him, 's that it? Has the assassin got himself a crush?"

"I prefer the term hitman, but I guess since I'm now neither nor, you can call it whatever you want." Bucky shrugs, turning for the door.

"No you fucking don't, Barnes." Rumlow stands, slamming his fist down on his desk. "You fucking kill him, you hear me? I don't give a fuck how you do it, just _kill him_. Do your fucking _job_."

"'s not my job anymore." Bucky says. "Didn't you hear? I just quit."

He leaves, and he can hear Rumlow yelling, but he simply doesn't care.

On his way out of the building, he gets a text from Steve.

_**Natasha's just got back - I know it's a Sunday, but impromptu drinks? We won't be out late, promise.** _

_**Sign me up.** _ Bucky replies, grinning to himself as he dumps his brief case in the trash can - he'd eaten the plum and taken the pistol out a while back - and heads back to his place to get changed.

~*~

He agrees to just meet them all there, and he regrets it almost immediately as he shows up, and clocks Natasha.

"Natalia?" He asks, astounded. Natalia gives him a look like she wants to murder him, and Bucky knows that she could, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"Natasha," Steve corrects him, entirely innocent and unassuming. "But close."

Bucky slides into the booth beside Steve, greeting him with a quick kiss. There's already a drink for him on the table. Bucky's back to feeling like he wants to vomit, but he takes a sip anyway.

He knows Natasha, and he doesn't at the same time. He knows _Natalia_. The woman who was the deadliest of them all, the one that even the bosses feared. She had taught Bucky everything he knew, despite being a good few years younger than him. She had taken him on his first mission. Watched him take down his first target.

And then one day she had dropped off the map, never to be seen again.

Until today, evidently.

For the most part, they ignore each other. Bucky joins in on the good-natured ribbing and the lively conversation, as does Natasha. Every so often, Bucky can feel her eyes on him, boring into his skull, but he won't look her way.

After an hour, he excuses himself, slipping into the bathroom. He rests his forehead against the tiled wall, which is probably filthy but boy does he have bigger problems right now, and takes a breath.

The door opens, and closes, and Bucky has about 0.5 seconds to look up before he's being slammed into said tile.

"What are you doing?" Natalia - Natasha - hisses.

"This is the men's room!" Bucky croaks. Natasha's grip on his throat tightens.

"I said what. Are you doing?" She asks again, her voice low.

Bucky knows better than to lie to her. "Listen, alright, just - hear me out."

"Thirty seconds." She tells him, and Bucky's frankly starting to get sick of ultimatums.

"Okay, alright, it - it started as a job. I had to take him out and make it look like an accident, he's onto Hydra secrets, or something, so Rumlow sent me after him but I - I got too close, I got to know him, and I couldn't do it. I _can't_  do it."

"You son of a bitch." Natalia growls, gripping him tighter still.

"I quit! I went in today, and I quit. I'm not - I'm not doing that anymore, I can't, I /won't. He's too good and he deserves better but apparently--" Bucky's babbling, he knows that, but he can't stop himself. "Apparently he wants me, and he's serious about that, so I want to be better. I want to be better, so I told them to shove their job and shove my contract and that's - that's it."

"How much were they going to pay you?" She asks.

Bucky swallows. "$750,000."

She gives a low whistle, one that's definitely involuntary, but. Yeah. It's a hell of a lot more than they normally get.

"And you just - told them to shove it?" She asks, her eyes narrowing.

Bucky nods. "I want to be better for him. I don't want - I'd kill myself before I hurt a single hair on his head."

The two of them are still incredibly close, and Bucky can only marvel at the fact that no one has caught the two of them in here yet. She's about to say something when his phone vibrates in his pocket, shocking the both of them.

"Can I..." Bucky cants his head to the left, and Natalie huffs, taking a step back.

"I'll be watching you." She says.

"I know, Natalia." He answers, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"Don't ever call me that." She snaps, turning to leave when Bucky looks at his phone.

He must have had bad signal in the bar or something, because he's suddenly been hit with a barrage of abusive texts, and he knows exactly who they're from. He can barely read them, all of them blurring together, until he gets to the last one.

"Oh no." He murmurs, and Natasha stops before she even has a chance to get to the door. "Oh no, no no no no," Bucky whispers, his eyes feeling a little wet. If he wasn't going to vomit before, he sure is now.

_**Fine. If you won't do it, I will.** _

He shows Natasha the phone, and even _she_ blanches, which is a sign, for sure.

"We have to get out of here." Bucky croaks. "We have to go. It's not safe. No! We have to stay here. The crowds, he can't kill him with a bunch of people watching--"

"We can't stay here forever, Barnes." Natasha says, but there's no bite to it. She's thinking. She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. "My apartment." She says. "My new apartment. I move every time I come back," She doesn't need to explain why. Bucky knows. "We'll go there. He should be safe there, until I can deal with Rumlow."

"Deal with him?" Bucky asks.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to kill him." She says. "I'm going to turn him in. I'm going to turn all of them in. If I can get to the office and get the files, I can make them public. Everyone will know what Hydra's been up to the past few years."

"Can I remind you that that includes _us_?!" Bucky hisses. "This is a terrible plan!"

"It's the only plan." Natasha says. "I'll take out any trace of us, obviously. But - you have to tell Steve."

"Natal- Natasha." Bucky says. He shakes his head. "I can't. He'll hate me."

"If you love him, you'll tell him." She says. "He deserves to know. Now come on - we have to go."

Bucky doesn't even bother with pretences; he follows her straight of the mens room and back to the table.

"Sorry to break up the party, but I have to go - Steve, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind coming with. Got a surprise for you back at my place." Natasha says. Steve looks floored by the entire thing, but Clint snorts.

"Is it a threesome? Because I would pay to say that."

"Gross." Wanda mutters.

"Let the man speak." Scott counters.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "You wish. Steve?" She prompts.

Steve looks to Bucky. "...Are you coming?"

Bucky gives a shrug. He smiles weakly. "Sure."

"It's definitely a threesome." Scott says in a stage-whisper. Sam is looking at the three of them curiously, but he doesn't say anything. They disappear without another word.

Natasha, thank god, drove to the bar, and had the good sense not to drink. Steve sits up front, and Bucky sits in the back, wishing he had never been born.

"So... when do I get to ask what the hell is going on?" Steve asks, and he smiles like he's joking but Bucky can see the panic.

"I'm sorry, Steve." Natasha says, and that doesn't help. Steve looks outwardly worried, now, and so Bucky reaches forward, grasps his shoulder gently to keep him grounded. "You're in danger. We're going back to my apartment, and Bucky can explain everything once you two are secure."

Steve pales, but he laughs. "This is a real funny joke." He looks over his shoulder at Bucky. "What's going on, Buck?"

"She's telling the truth." Bucky murmurs, squeezing Steve's shoulder lightly. "I'll tell you everything once we're inside, I promise."

Natasha ushers them into her apartment. She closes and locks all of the windows, draws the blinds. She hands Bucky a tablet, open to a display of four different screens: the roof, the hallway, the front of the building and the fire escape. It doesn't really make Bucky feel any better.

"What're you carrying?" She asks Bucky, and he runs a hand through his hair, eyes closing for a second. "Barnes." She snaps. "What're you carrying?"

"Just my knife." He murmurs, and she nods, going to a cupboard in the corridor. It looks pretty unassuming, but then she opens it and Bucky sees the frankly startling array of weaponry inside. He's given a handgun, and enough ammo to see him through, but they both know that it won't matter. If Rumlow gets into the apartment, it's going to be hand-to-hand, and there's probably going to be something sharp involved.

"Steve?" Natasha asks. She's holding another hand gun very careful, and she extends it to him. "You remember how to use a one of these things?"

Steve looks from the gun to her and back again. One more time. He nods weakly, and takes the gun from her, breathing in deeply. this is probably undoing a hell of a lot therapy for him.

"I'll be 45 minutes, if i'm good, which I am." She says, now arming herself. "I'll text you when it's done. I'll come right back. You tell him _everything_."

Bucky nods. Natasha looks between the two of them, kisses the top of Steve's head, and then leaves. She locks the door behind her, but it doesn't make him feel any safer.

Bucky sits down next to Steve. He has no idea how to approach this. He has no idea how to begin, and then before he can even realise it, he says, "I'm a hitman, Steve. I kill people for money. And I'm good at it."

Steve looks like he wants to cry, and laugh, and be angry - he doesn't do anything, though, save for look at Bucky questioningly. So, Bucky continues, "I was sent to kill you. The day we met, I was following you, trying to get a handle on your habits."

Now Steve is crying, and Bucky wants to cry, too. He won't, though. "But then I got to know you. I - we talked. I don't normally do that, it's usually - remote. Separate. It's--" He shakes his head. his voice is thick, his hands shaking. "It's not important. I fell in love with you, Steve, and I couldn't... I didn't want to be that anymore. A killer. So I - I quit. I wanted to be better, for you, so I quit. But because I never finished the job, they've sent someone else to come after you, and he's a real piece of work, Steve. He's a monster, and I'm sorry, I'm _so_  sorry, I'm so sorry--"

"Natasha?" Steve asks. "You called her Natalia. She has an airing cupboard full of guns."

Bucky nods. "She - we used to work together. She was Natalia back then, but then she disappeared. She must have wanted out of the game too, and she was smarter than I was. She's going to expose it. All of it. We can't just kill Brock, cause they'll just send someone else, Hydra, they're not - they aren't stupid. But she's going to expose them, so they'll b criminals, and then they'll be locked up, and they won't be able to hurt us."

Steve is shaking, Bucky realises, and he shifts closer to him, takes Steve's hands in his. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that we had to meet like this, I'm sorry that I liked, I - I'm sorry that I'm not good enough for you--"

"How many?" Steve asks softly.

Bucky blanks. Steve presses. "How many people have you - have you killed?"

"62." Bucky answers. Steve seems to collapse in on himself, and Bucky wishes he could do something about it. He goes to touch Steve, but he flinches away. It hurts a lot more than it should.

"Hydra?" Steve asks, and after another moment, Bucky gives a small nod. Steve closes his eyes. "I knew it." He murmurs, and then again, even quieter, "I knew it."

"I'll walk the perimeter." He murmurs. "You - you keep your eyes open, alright? You can defend yourself, so - make sure you do." Bucky murmurs, and gets to pacing.

He paces for 40 minutes and 23 seconds. He counts, and he paces, and he wishes he could kiss Steve. His phone buzzes, and he almost shoots a hole through Natasha's floor.

_**Done. ETA 15 mins.** _

Bucky breathes out in a gush, immediately opening his phone. There's nothing yet, but he bets that if he looks in another fifteen minutes there'll be a hundred different news articles to read.

"Steve! Steve, she did it, Natasha--"

There's the sound of shattering glass, and then a lot of grunting, and Bucky breaks into a run, dropping phone without a second thought.

Rumlow has Steve pinned to the ground, a knife between his lips, the two of them wrestling in the broken glass. Bucky's good at this, at least. He rushes in, and with as much force as he can, kicks Rumlow on the side of the head.

It sends him flying, his body rolling across the carpet. Bucky drops his gun and grabs at Steve, dragging him to his feet. "Get out - down the hall, bathroom door, it's got a lock, go, go!"

Steve looks very conflicted, but as Rumlow comes charging at the two of them Bucky pushes him out of the way and down the hall. Rumlow's still got his knife between his teeth, and Bucky knew, he fucking knew it was going to come to this- he grabs the knife from his boot and aims for Rumlow's shoulder, but he moves too quickly. Rumlow lunges at him, knocks him to the ground, and now the two of them are wrestling just as he and Steve had been. Rumlow grabs his wrist, squeezes until Bucky's knife is forced out of his hand, but it doesn't matter. Bucky brings his legs up to knee Rumlow in the stomach, and when he groans, dropping the knife, Bucky rolls them over so he can grab it.

He can do it. He can kill Rumlow right here, right now. But then there's a voice, breaking through the surreal quiet that over comes over him when he's about to do his job.

"Bucky! Bucky, stop!"

Steve. He wanted to be better for Steve. He /wants to be better for Steve. Steve, who's looking at him with tears in his eyes and a bruise blossoming on his cheek, all Bucky's doing. "Stevie, I--"

Suddenly there's a blinding pain in his abdomen that knocks the wind out of him, and Bucky looks down to see his own knife sticking out of him, too close to his kidney for comfort. Bucky gapes, and then he starts seeing stars, and Rumlow pushes him aside as if he were nothing.

"Steve," Bucky croaks. "Steve, get outta here. Go! Go! You have to-- you gotta--"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence. He doesn't have time to do anything, really, though he manages to register the door bursting open, and Natasha, gun raised, just as the blackness envelopes him.

~*~

Beeping. Is that his phone? No, his phone rings. It sings _Beside the Seaside_. So no, not his phone.

Bucky blinks his eyes open slowly, and the world comes into focus. Hospital. He knows what hospitals look like, he knows that he's in one, and tied up to about a million and one wires, by the looks of things.

He turns his head left, and is met with a bare, white wall. When he looks right he sees Steve. He looks like he hasn't slept in about three years, but when he sees Bucky looking at him he smiles softly, and leans forward. "Hey." He murmurs.

"You aren't dead." Bucky croaks.

"Thanks to Natasha, no." Steve agrees.

The surge of happiness he'd felt at seeing Steve alive and mostly well now promptly dies, and Bucky closes his eyes. "You hate me."

"I'm not your friend at the moment." Steve murmurs. "But I don't hate you."

That's no better, Bucky wants to tell him, but he doesn't. He keeps his mouth shut.

"85." Steve says, after a moment's silence. Bucky slowly blinks his eyes open. He looks at Steve questioningly, and with a small, sad smile, Steve says, "I saved 72 men, but I killed 85. And that was just that one tour. I'd done three more before that. And technically, I was getting paid to do it. So I guess we're one in the same."

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but Steve shakes his head. "Because I did it for my country does not make it any different. It doesn't make it any better. You and me, we're - murderers." Bucky cringes, and Steve does too, but he presses on. "We have that in common."

And then, very slowly, Steve reaches out to take his hand. Bucky could just about cry.

"Rumlow?" He asks instead.

"Alive." Steve answers. "In police custody. With the rest of your bosses. Natasha's told everyone that you and her were working to take it down from the inside out."

"I'm sorry you have to lie." Bucky murmurs, but Steve shakes his head.

"It's better than you both going to jail." He says.

Bucky nods a little. He can understand.

"You can--" Bucky coughs. "You can go. I know you don't want to be here. You don't want to see me, I get it. So--"

"I told you, Buck. I don't hate you. I'm just not your friend." Steve says softly. "Just... give me time to be mad at you. And then we'll see."

Bucky nods. "Alright." He murmurs. "Seems fair."

"Good." Steve nods. He kisses Bucky's forehead gently, and Bucky's eyes close. Things are getting kind of fuzzy again, and he wants to hold on but it's so difficult, with Steve's hand in his and the ghost of those soft lips against his forehead...

~*~

Bucky's nervous. He runs his sweaty palms over his jeans, puts his order in at the counter, and then approaches the table by the window.

"Hi," He says, and jesus he feels stupid but he's /doing this, damn it. Steve looks up at him through his lashes, and suddenly Bucky doesn't feel so stupid. "Mind if I sit?"

"Well I was waiting for my boyfriend, but sure." Steve nods.

"Boyfriend?" Bucky asks. "He stood you up?"

"He's early, actually." Steve answers, and he grins, and Bucky can't help but grin right back at him.

"It doesn't count if you don't play along, Rogers." He grouses, but Steve just shakes his head, laughing as he leans across the table to pull Bucky in for another kiss.

"I don't want to start from the beginning." He says, and Bucky smiles as they break away from one another. "I'm happy with where we're at."

Bucky looks at him, the bruises now gone, his blue eyes bright, happy, and he grins. "Yeah. Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts, comments or questions are welcome here or at [my tumblr](http://liionne.tumblr.com/ask). Thanks for reading!


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